Out of the Darkness

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, and I feel my way to the bathroom. It's sort of a stressful few minutes as I reach around and in front of me to feel the walls and walk slowly so I don't stub my toe on anything. I'm a bit apprehensive, but I know at the end of this rather uncomfortable trek I will flip a switch and there will be light. I do, and there is, and instantly a relief, a peace flows through me. I can see clearly, and the fear is gone.

Nobody chooses to physically stay in darkness. We all innately seek light. During the winter months we count the hours to the Spring and Summer when the days will be longer and brighter. Sunny days generally bring us more energy and zest, and dark, gloomy days often bring us down both emotionally and physically. In a dark room, our eyes automatically seek out any small speck of light. Our pupils grow larger and larger to help us to see. When we find light, we focus on it, and that is where we find comfort. When we were kids playing hide and seek and we had to count to ten with our eyes closed, it took all we had to wait before we would joyfully open our eyes to see exactly what was around us. Relief! Now we could get down to the business of finding our friends who were hiding.

While we automatically seek light physically -- emotionally and spiritually we sometimes choose to stay in the dark. Perhaps the light in some cases seems more frightening than the dark. Sometimes when we flip the switch and look in the mirror, the reflection is not as pretty as we'd imagined. Better to shut the light and stay in the dark where our illusions can be whatever we want them to be. The problem is that we cannot see clearly in the dark, and except for mold or fungi, not much can grow there. We can only hope to at best remain stagnant. To grow, we must bring ourselves slowly into the light -- squinting if necessary, so that we don't blind ourselves.

I heard someone say recently that remaining "in the dark" can be either a womb or a tomb. In the womb, one is comforted, nurtured, and nourished. It is a safe and happy place where the fetus can hear sounds and feel things and move and even smile. It is alive and growing, and it has a vital connection to its life source. Conversely, a tomb offers none of those things. A tomb is filled with death. Nothing is brought to it except a dead body, and nothing is hoped to ever come from it. It has no hope for growth. It is lifeless. Both are dark spaces, but each is drastically different.

A good question to ask ourselves might be: "Am I choosing to remain in the dark?" Temporarily the space might be a womb of sorts.. It's important to remember that a womb's purpose is to protect, nurture, and ultimately to produce new life. It is not a permanent dwelling place. Or have we created a tomb for ourselves? Have we buried ourselves so deeply that we cannot see the light, and we cannot bring forth new life?

The good news is that the tomb you may be in is not physical, and you can therefore come out of it. You may have to squint, and you will likely need a few hands to help you, but you can in fact come out of the tomb. The light will kill the mold and fungi, and it will burn away anything that is stagnant. You will be refreshed and renewed, but you must first remove the blindfold and follow any hint of a pure light source. If finding a light switch in the middle of the night provides relief and erases fear, imagine the joy you will experience once you have come out of the darkness of the tomb and into the "marvelous light."